


Frustrated Bystander

by Amari, EJ (girlwitham4carbine)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake AH Crew, Guess Who's Back, M/M, back again, back back, ej and amari are back, tell your friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amari/pseuds/Amari, https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwitham4carbine/pseuds/EJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That kid was the one that pissed him off the most; he was like a con artist, doing small and seemingly miniscule things amongst his crew members, then standing back to watch things go even more to shit. Young and arrogant, like he had a death wish. Just the way Joel hated them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustrated Bystander

**Author's Note:**

> Amari and I wrote this because there is no way Joel is a cool crime boss/secret agent in a Fake AH verse. He’s a crusty old man.
> 
> Cross posted on Tumblr here: http://ejraptor.tumblr.com/post/119561344719/frustrated-bystander

It looked like a Christmas tree if Joel was being honest. Almost like the Rockefeller Plaza tree had been dragged thousands of miles from New York to the shitty streets of Los Santos only to be genetically infused with metal, burning plastic and large plumes of smoke right on the edge of his lawn. It was definitely that bright anyways.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

There was no way he would be getting out of his house today. Swimming was out of the question as well; the smoke likely rising right over his home and down into his back yard. And oh great, there was the helicopter tree topper.

His half-asleep brain hardly digested the fact that a police chopper had just joined the 10 car pile-up right on his small street, sending a few pieces of burning shrapnel into his grass. Yeah, there was no way he was leaving. He pulled at the skin on his face with frustration before taking out his phone and calling his boss.

“Hello?” greeted the voice at the other end of the line. Joel held back a sigh before he replied.  

"Sir? Yeah, I’m sorry for the short notice but I can't come in today."

"Joel? You never take sick days. Is something wrong?"

He gave the scene in front of him a once-over (yep, everything was still on fire) before speaking.

"There's a goddamn flaming Christmas tree made of vehicles in my front yard and I can't get out of my driveway."

His boss didn’t speak for a moment, the faint sounds of shouting outside the window filling the silence.

"...I understand. Try to stay inside, we’ll see you tomorrow."

Joel grunted and hung up, sighing even harder than before. Glancing out the window and at the damnable ‘tree’, he finally saw the fuckers that had caused it. Not that he didn’t know who they were already.

The Fake AH Crew.

Why they even called themselves fake was beyond him; they seemed pretty real to him and the other residents of Los Santos. There was nothing fake about the bearded one in the tropical shirt driving up with yet another vehicle ready to add to the pile up. Nor the gentleman with a curled moustache and fancy suit leaning into bearded tropical shirt’s window and telling him where to put the thing. The creepy motherfucker with the skull mask might have been a phantom, but only because he seemed to appear and disappear if you took your eyes off him for a second. The one with the grey blue button-up and windswept hair holding a can of spray paint- oh wait, that’s a grenade- wasn’t fake, and neither was the angry-looking one that tackled him to the ground before he blew his hand off.

And the one in the purple hoodie definitely wasn’t. Not with the way he was laughing heartily at everything around them. That kid was the one that pissed him off the most; he was like a con artist, doing small and seemingly miniscule things amongst his crew members, then standing back to watch things go even more to shit. Young and arrogant, like he had a death wish. Just the way Joel hated them.

And he was pretty sure the purple one heard that, because his laughing burnt down into chuckles as he looked back down the street. When their eyes met and the kid started grinning, Joel swore the brat knew he had been looking this whole time.

Shit. He should really invest in some tinted windows.

Joel didn’t want to look at the carnage anymore (and really didn’t want to look at the kid in the purple hoodie) so he closed the blinds and retreated to his home-office, sitting down in his computer chair and throwing on some headphones. The most he could do was block it all out, maybe get some work done, and hopefully not die because of another helicopter.

\--

Like some bullshit black magic, when Joel awoke the next morning there were no traces of the Fake AH Crew’s shenanigans on his street. Not a single piece of burnt rubber, nor a single scrap of warped metal. There weren’t even burn marks on the pavement. Joel had seen car wrecks in his life and there’d usually be at least a light dusting of glass still left for weeks. But there was nothing left. Like it never even happened. And as much as it should have pleased him, it honestly pissed Joel off even more. If those shits were going to make a mess, they should at least leave some trace of it to make it believable.

The anger didn’t leave his face for the entire morning apparently. So when he finally made it to the office, his co-worker Adam immediately asked, “What’s wrong this time?”

Joel grumbled, “Fake AH Crew.”

Adam chuckled, turning his chair around to fully face Joel and handing him a mug filled with dark coffee. Joel greedily grabbed the mug and took a large gulp. “Well, I figured it was either that, or… well, there really isn’t any ‘or’ when it comes to you. What did they do?”

Joel swirled the coffee mug around, watching the liquid swirl around. “If I told you they were practicing for the holidays, would you believe me?”

“Well, if you tell me how they were practicing, yeah. Maybe.”

“A fucking Christmas tree of cars. I can’t even make that shit up, Adam.”

Adam burst out laughing, his frame shaking as he clutched at his stomach. “What? They piled up vehicles like a christmas tree?”

Joel nodded. “Yep. Complete with a chopper topper.”

“A chopper topper. That sounds more fun than that one time when they put one plane on top of another, like they were fucking. Literal airplane sex.”

Joel cringed at the memory. “Oh god, that was stupid! Where do they have the time and money to do this shit?!”

Some people peeked their heads above their cubicles at the sounds of Joel’s exasperation and Adam’s laughter. At the now insistent shushing, the bearded man waved his hands to get the other to quiet down.

“Really Joel, I think you should calm down. Your blood pressure is probably through the roof right now. Let them do their thing, and you’ll probably live.”

_“Probably.”_

Joel was muttering under his breath, and Adam patted him on the shoulder.

“Just relax buddy. Call me or something if they do more shit and I’ll make sure you don’t go out and try and deck one of them.”

“Yeah yeah.” Joel waved him off, finally standing up and heading to his own desk.

_‘Probably my ass..’_

\---

Joel was finally able to relax; he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of the Fake AH Crew for weeks. Not even a word about their other escapades either. It was like they became ghosts during their off-time and people had pushed them to the back of their minds. This really should have set him on edge, his brain not helping but wonder what the hell they were planning next. But for once, he couldn’t be bothered. Joel finally had some peace and quiet and he made use of it by becoming one with his television and recliner. Feet up, head back and Joel couldn’t give two shits.

That is, until he saw a flash of purple in his yard.

“No. No no no.”

He slammed his eyes shut, his chanting turning to shouting as he cried the single word over and over again, praying to god that it’d be a figment of his imagination and it would go the fuck away. That it was a stray kite or something or hell, maybe a purple-painted dog. It could be a giant purple dinosaur for all he cared, just not the person he absolutely knew it was. He covered his face with his hands, eyes shut so tight he started to see colors in the darkness.

He eventually took a chance and looked out from beneath his fingers. Sure enough, the dark-skinned purple brat was standing out in his lawn with a clipboard in hand.

Looking shady as fuck.

On his front lawn.

Joel practically launched himself from his chair, almost losing his footing and slamming into his coffee table before he stormed out the front door. As soon as he managed to close in behind the brat who was busy scribbling on his clipboard, he straightened his back, put on his best smile and calmly walked up to his new ‘favorite’.. trespasser. Yeah, that’s a good way to put it. Joel wiped his hands on the front of his sweatpants before putting them in his pockets for safety and cleared his throat to get the purple trespasser’s attention.

"Hey, so what bullshit is your crew up to today? Gonna slaughter a pile of goats for shits and giggles? Gonna throw a plane into the nearby school? Do I need to invest in a hardhat? That's what I really need to know."

The kid looked up from his task, turning to face the man. His expression went from a surprised half-smile to a confused scowl in a quick second.

“What are you, the Neighborhood Watch?”

“Closer to Neighborhood ‘Not giving a fuck but caring about my own house’ Watch.” Joel answered with a shrug, trying to hold back his simmering anger. The kid looked straight at Joel, confused look turning a bit more hard and neutral, before his eyes shifted to the house behind him and back to his clipboard. He jotted something down, then glanced back up at the older man.

“Nice house.”

“I’d like to keep it nice, if you don’t mind.”

The kid made another note on his board. Joel squinted, kind of annoyed the brat was taking notes while he talked to him. He wasn’t sure, but Joel could have sworn the words looked something like ‘hard hat’.

“Hm. I can’t promise much.” The purple shit smirked. “How about you keep your face nice, and we’ll try to keep your house the same?”

Joel’s jaw dropped, and he spit out an “Excuse me?”

“You heard me old man. I said if you keep your face as nice as it is, we’ll be sure to keep your fancy house over there as nice as it is too.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “Was that a threat? Or are you hitting on me? I feel like you’re hitting on me and threatening me at the same time.”

The kid shrugged, his shoulders barely moving under his ill-fitting hoodie and his grin stretching across his face, dripping with a sweet, yet frightening venom.

“Maybe.” He scribbled a few more notes down. “What’s your name, old man?”

“And just what do you need my name for?”

The kid let out an exaggerated groan. “Do you seriously want me to go back to my crew and be like, ‘This nameless old dude wants us to fuck off’? That won’t go over very well at all. You put in a complaint, so I’m gonna need a name.”

Joel hesitated. Sure, they could probably pull his name off some government database if he chose not to tell him. Joel wasn’t the most secretive person in the world - hell, who knows just how many places your name is floating around nowadays?

“Joel Heyman.” The kid scribbled once again, and looked up with a smile.

“My name’s Ray. We’ll try not to fuck up your shit. However, you live relatively close to something we are going to use in the next few days, so sorry about that in advance.”

Joel squinted at the kid - Ray. “Is there like, any way you could… not use the thing?”

“Nope.” He mused simply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Joel, as much as I adore talking to your incredible face, I have some very important shit to do.”

With no flash of exuberance or explosions like Joel honestly expected, Ray turned and walked off to the corner before turning out of sight. Joel was bewildered. And flattered. But mostly bewildered. He went back inside and tried to keep the encounter out of his mind as he became one with his recliner once again.

\---

The next day before Joel left for work, he found a bright yellow hardhat sitting on the center of his doorstep. The hat itself was on a small pedestal of burnt metal, and attached was a note that simply said “with love”.

_’With love’? Who gives anyone a hard hat and burning fender as a ‘gift’, and sends it ‘with love?’_

Joel considered chucking it into the street, leaving it and waiting for someone to run it over by the time he got back from work. But instead he threw it into the backseat of his car and brought it with him to the office. Maybe the gift was a warning or something. It would be a funny story to tell Adam, at the very least.

\----

Joel felt the house shaking in his dream. His own mind groaned for him, and even in the throngs of sleep he knew exactly who was already fucking up his much needed day off. His eyelids felt like lead as he forced them open, throwing off his heavy covers and quickly putting on an old t-shirt. He ran out of his front door and into his front lawn in nothing but his boxers and the ratty shirt, nearly stepping on a shingle that lay in the grass. Wait a second. A shingle..?

He nearly gave himself whiplash when his head shot towards his roof. He had been right, and how he hated that he was.

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET A CAR UP THERE? AND A FAGGIO?”

Joel felt like a madman as his throat burned from yelling at the boy on his roof, who had the audacity to give him a sheepish grin and a small wave. Ray was perched on the edge of his roof, a dented up motor scooter on its kickstand right behind him. The angry looking man he had seen a few times with the crew was up there as well, looking rather bored from the driver’s seat of his million-dollar car. Joel had no words, and his mouth opened and shut like a fish while he tried to come up with something to say other than ‘What the fuck, Ray?’

“Your neighbor has a pretty sick gate man.” Gate? He looked down his street to see the rest of the Fake AH Crew crowded around his neighbor’s automatic gate, trying to drive various vehicles into it. They had way more cars than necessary, minivans and sedans and sports cars…. and a SWAT van? And an ambulance. And a fire truck…

\----

The next week, Ray was hanging from the large tree in his backyard, parachute and streamers tangled among the wide branches. It looked like a kid’s birthday party smashed into the poor oak and Joel could not fathom how the boy had brought so many colors down with him. The older man pinched his brow again and Ray scratched at the back of his head, still hanging from his chute.

“Had some fun with fireworks?”

“It was Geoff’s birthday, and things got a little… hectic. Mind helping me out here?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ray reached out to Joel, doing the childish “grabby hands” motion. Joel begrudgingly grabbed his arms and began pulling him out. The smaller man freed himself with ease, but ended up falling right out of the tree and on top of Joel. His poor skull nearly slammed right into the brick of his patio, as all of Ray’s weight toppled onto him.

The kid was warm.

Joel mentally slapped himself for the thought, letting go of the other’s arms so he could get up. _Stop being creepy, Joel._

Ray did exactly that and laughed at him. “You should have worn the hardat.”

Strange enough, long after Ray had left, the confetti and other party accessories remained in Joel’s yard. The magical disappearing act didn’t kick in this time apparently. He took pictures of the mess to show Adam later.

\----

Two weeks after that, Ray and two other members of his crew were treading water in his swimming pool. The one with the skull mask was holding onto half of a Mammatus while the bearded one did small laps using one of the plane’s wings as a floatie. Ray was floating in the middle of it all, looking up at Joel sheepishly as he walked to the edge of the pool.

Joel blinked a few times, looking at the wreckage in his pool and backyard. He had no words. He couldn’t find a single damn word within his extensive brain-dictionary to say to the scene in front of him. Even with the smile that beamed from Ray’s face, Joel couldn’t speak. Instead, he pivoted on his heel and stomped right back into his house.

Joel came out with a giant first aid kit and every towel he owned and dropped them  before turning right back around and going back upstairs to bed.

There was a basket of bread along with his towels cleaned and neatly folded on his doorstep the next morning.

According to the note attached, it was Ray’s idea to give the Joel something as thanks for not screaming at them. Geoff had suggested they deliver the hottest hookers to blow Joel’s mind to space but thank fuck Ray had talked him out of that plan. Ray had decided a freshly baked bread basket would be a better idea (“Because that’s what white people like, right?”)

At least it was damn good bread, and Adam agreed when he came over for an impromptu “hard liquor, bread and cheese” night later.

\---

“You look, uh, healthy today.” Adam said out of the blue when Joel walked into the office that morning.

Joel scrunched his face at him as he leaned against Adam’s cubicle wall. “What? That’s a weird thing to say. Healthy? The hell does that mean?”

“Uh...” Adam leaned his head back and scratched his fingers through his beard as he searched for the right words. “Okay, like... You haven’t looked like you have as much of a stick up your ass recently.”

Joel ran his thumb under his lips in thought. “You really think so? Funny, because Ray and his crew have been more obnoxious than usual. There were plane parts in my pool the other day.”

Adam’s jaw went slack. “Parts? Where was the rest of the plane?”

“Probably in the black hole where the evidence of their shit goes to die.”

“Oh, a black hole. Of course. But really, Joel. You don’t look like you’re going to pop a blood vessel anymore or die of a pulmonary embolism at the tender age of 43.”

“Well, that’s good. I think.” Joel shrugged. “Well, gonna go sit in my cubicle and die less slowly there now. Talk to you later Adam.”

And while he was sitting at said cubicle with his eyes feeling like they were bleeding at the sight of his computer screen, his mind went back to what Adam had said earlier. How he seemed different, like he was more relaxed and less uptight. Sure, he had been pretty high-strung to begin with, and was wound up even tighter when the Fake AH Crew had reared their ugly heads around his neighborhood. But in the moments between their bullshit, he found a warmth among them. Not to mention his interactions with Ray. Despite wanting to punch the boy right in his perfect bubble nose when they had first met, he quickly became tolerant of him. Except tolerant wasn’t the right word, was it? No, it wasn’t. It was more like he had become fond of Ray. He was someone that could go out and do crazy shit without a single care in the world, unlike Joel, who had lived his life in predictable stability for the past decade. Ray and his crew were a breath of toxic, yet fresh air. Because even air thick with smoke and burning plane parts was better than the stagnant air Joel had been breathing.

A change of situation might actually good for him.

\--

Joel heard their hearty laughter as he was lounging in his living room, going over various documents for work. When he looked out the window he saw the six man crew sauntering down the street, just as he knew they would be. They didn’t have any weapons on them, at least none that weren’t well concealed among their ridiculous clothing. The moustached boss man, who apparently was named Geoff according to Ray, was talking with the ball of energy with the wild hair, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up and hands stuffed in his pockets. The angry one who had landed the car on his porch was talking to the man in the skull mask, who was talking with his hands right back. The bearded one was looking on with a smile and joining in both conversations while walking beside Ray, who seemed to be content with just listening to everyone around him.

Joel caught himself staring but didn’t move from his papers. He had invested in those darker tinted windows, at least for his living room and kitchen. He didn’t need a certain purple nuisance seeing him watching as he came through. Nope, didn’t need that at all. _‘I wonder if he’s got a girlfriend? Or something anyway..’_ Ray was far too young to be single, too easy on the eyes and too much of a damn ball of sunshine. He was cocky and a little shit for sure, but the boy was sharp. He saw it in his face when he talked to him, the quick thinking that went on in that brain of his. He only figured he put that to good use when it came to the crew’s other activities. He wondered how fast his trigger finger was, how quick he could change a heist and make everything go his way. He mostly wondered what kind of look he had on his face when he was like that.

 _‘Wait, why am I thinking about his fucking face while he’s robbing a bank?’_ Joel wondered if Ray’s glasses would scrunch against his brow as his face contorts in concentration, eyes glittering dangerously behind them. He thought of how his torso would tighten under his shirt as he steeled himself to aim a rifle or take a punch. Or if he was a lip-biter, and how red his bottom lip would be once he was done gnawing at it.

 _‘Am… I interested in him? I don’t even know anything about him besides him being a little fuckwad.’_ Joel needed to stop. How could he be remotely interested in a little fuckwad who kept destroying his yard. Who kept turning up to bother him with whatever their crew had planned for his street. Who was too cocky, too full of himself, too dangerous.

 _‘There’s no way.’_ Joel got up and shut his blinds, not opening them for the rest of the day.

\--

There was a knock at Joel’s door, early in the morning on yet another of his rare days off. It was strange considering he hadn’t invited anyone over, wasn’t expecting any surprise family visits, nor had he ordered anything online as of late. For all he knew, he didn’t even have neighbors anymore. He certainly hadn’t seen one who dared to stroll about in the past few months. It probably wasn’t the Fake AH Crew either. They’d been quiet all week, and they’d never been so polite as to knock on his door.

Joel put his coffee cup down on the kitchen counter, wincing when he heard yet another crack in the ceramic of the cup. Maybe it was time to invest in some new dishware.

His mind went through the various stores in town he could find some mugs for cheap as he walked from his kitchen and through the rest of his home. Before he arrived at the door, the person behind it had knocked again and rang the doorbell a few times.

“Yeah yeah. Hold your horses.” Joel nearly yelled, making sure he could be heard through the thick oak door. He flicked his wrist, quickly unlocking the two deadbolts and turned the knob, opening the door with a soft click.

Before his brain could recognize the face, Joel saw that irritating purple.

His eye twitched as Ray beamed a smile at him. “Can... can I help you? Do you need something? Are you here for your basket? Shit, do I need my hardhat?”

What started as a breathy snicker turned into a hard and choppy laugh from Ray as Joel fumbled over his greeting.

“Holy shit, is that how you say hi?” Ray said while fighting through giggles. “ _Do I need my hardhat?_ ”

Joel felt his cheeks burn a light shade of red from embarrassment. The words had spilled out of his mouth out of panic and surprise from seeing the young man so suddenly, and he simply wasn’t prepared. That’s definitely what it was.

“Well.” Joel huffed, righting himself and fighting through the blush before leaning against his doorframe, propping an arm against it. “Normally I don’t have to greet borderline terrorists.”

Ray let out another hard laugh. “This is why I like you, old man. You aren’t afraid to say shit to my face. I’m sure you know people have died for saying less.”

“Wait. They have?”

“Oh yeah. But that was a guy that said Ryan’s mask was creepy, and Ryan wasn’t in a good mood that day. So it depends on circumstances, I suppose.”

Joel blanched a little before nodding slightly and clearing his throat. “Right… Anyways, what can I do for you?”

“We’re getting to the point already?”

“Well, if we stand and chat with my door wide open I’m going to have bugs up the ass in my house, not to mention the elaborate imprint of my molding on my arm from leaning here.”

“You really don’t have to lean, you know. It looks cool though.” Ray’s words hummed, like he was feeling lazy and comfortable.

Joel rolled his eyes at the boy. “Shut up and tell me why you’re here. This is the third time I’m asking, goddammit.”

“Okay okay okay.” Ray said, holding his hands up and shaking them lightly. “I’ll tell you. Today is my day off from Crew shit.”

Joel huffed. “Because terrorizing the city is hard work and you need a damn day off.”

Ray shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, you wanted me to tell you why I’m here and you’re interrupting me. Rude. Anyway fucker, I’m off from doing my normal shit and I wanted a chill day that had less explosions and bullshit. Less than normal, anyway. So here I am.”

Joel raked a hand through his hair, catching a few knots. The kid wasn’t making any damn sense. Why would Ray bother coming here for peace and quiet when there was probably no place quieter than their headquarters? The damn building reached far above the rest in the city in all its glory. Hell, he could have gone to a _lot_ of places quieter than the middle of North Los Santos.

“You came to my house for some fucking quiet? Considering all the shit that’s been happening around me, I wouldn’t say my place has been any kind of quiet since you guys started showing up.”

Ray nodded along as Joel spoke, and there was that thoughtful look in his eyes again.

“Yeah, that’s why I told them to fuck off and not bother me or you today.”

Joel squinted with suspicion. “And why would you do that?”

Ray threw his arms up, letting out a loud groan that echoed across the small street. “Fucking hell, are you dense or what? I want to spend some time with you today. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Joel took his weight off the frame and stood up straight. He pulled his chin up and looked down at the lad with confusion scribbled all over his face. There’s no way that the kid would just up and want to spend time with him. They had barely spoken to each other in the first place. When the hell had their ‘relationship’ progressed to a level where they could hang out together? Something had to be up here, right?

Ray stopped meeting Joel’s gaze and he pulled at the beanie on his head. “Can you… like… maybe let me in or something? Shit..”

Joel’s brain was fumbling every which way, still slightly wary of the boy on his stoop. Luckily, his usual snark had finally decided to resurface and his words came easy. “Yeah sure. I bet you’d come in anyway, even if I said no.”

Ray flashed a smile, finally looking back up at the older man. “You bet your ass I would.”

Joel stepped to the side to let him in, shutting the door behind them both. Ray lightly whistled as he took his Vans off, admitting to Joel that the place looked just as nice on the inside as it did on the outside. Joel  huffed out a noise that resembled the word ‘yeah’ mixed with ‘mhm’ and a small touch of ‘duh’.  Joel didn’t normally have guests over, especially uninvited ones. Adam popped by every once in awhile but that was to eat terrible food and get drunk. Joel had a feeling that getting plastered wasn’t on this kid’s agenda. Not when Ray was observing Joel’s living room as if he were trying to put the man together piece by piece through how he set up his furniture. Joel could only watch him cautiously, unsure of what to do in his own house.

Ray finally settled on plopping in the middle of Joel’s plush couch, his small body bouncing on the cushions before sinking into it. “So I’m not gonna just sit on your couch with you gaping at me the entire time. How about you sit down too?”

“Yeah, maybe I should do that.” Joel agreed before sitting in his trusty recliner positioned next to the couch. He felt awkward, like he had no idea what to do when someone who wasn’t a friend or coworker was over and in his space. He tried to say something - anything - but no words came to mind. How the hell did you start a conversation in a situation like this anyways? He couldn’t exactly pop in a movie and sit back.

Luckily for Joel, he didn’t have to say anything. Ray started it all by letting out a huge sigh. The air was escaping his lungs with a force strong enough to push his troubles along with it.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” Ray groaned, throwing his hands up and sliding deep into the cushions. His posture was fucked all to hell, but Joel wasn’t going to say anything about it. “You know, I’m kinda sorry for just busting in on you like this. It’s putting you in a weird position. I knew I wanted to spend time with you, but I wasn’t sure how. Ryan suggested kidnapping you and tying you up and going on the ferris wheel at the Pier. Like hell I was gonna do that. Way too much work. I figured that I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to you properly with the Crew doing it’s shit and doubted you’d go anywhere with me if I invited you.”

Joel deadpanned. “You’d be 100% correct.”

“That’s what I thought. Anyway, that’s really why I’m here. I just wanna chat with you and get to know who you are, I guess. You come off as a grumpy old fuck, but you’re really not one at all.” Ray was staring at Joel from his hunkered down position. His neck was crammed against his chest, giving him a second chin. Joel nearly snorted at the sight.

“Well, I thought you were a little fuck when I first saw you, and I still think so. But you’re a tolerable little fuck now.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel smirked in response and Ray continued on. “But yeah, would you be willing to just chat it out. Learn about each other?”

The opportunity to learn about Ray was right there, served to Joel on a silver platter. For a brief moment he wondered if it was okay to do this, if he was really being lured into a trap. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Ray’s words felt genuine and the older man felt he could trust him. At least with something as simple as this.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just tell you to save you from having to hack all my information from the government.”

Ray laughed softly and at Joel’s smile, launched into talking about himself. He was 25 and originally from New York City. He said his role in the crew was that of an instigator, though he was officially their go-to sniper. Ray would gently place small ideas in the group, and they would more than likely go and do whatever it was he suggested. He would then step back and watch the carnage unravel. So Joel’s original idea that he was a little fuck wasn’t too far from the truth. Ray liked video games and when he wasn’t rolling with his buds, he was almost always face first in a console of some sort. For the most part, he was a pretty average joe. As average as someone a part of one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Santos could be.

After Ray finished rattling off his life story, Joel went ahead and did the same. Joel was ‘old as fuck’ according to Ray at the age of 43. He was a white collar man working a simple but sometimes stressful office job. Crunching numbers and watching the money - that was basically what he did. In his off time, he fucked around on the stock market and played the occasional video game. If necessary, he’d get drunk. Which was often necessary. Joel was boring and that’s how he’d described himself.

“Maybe you’re boring in action, but your personality more than makes up for it.” Ray chuckled after Joel had finished and lounged back into his chair. He was about to say something else when his phone buzzed. When he read the screen his eyes went wide. Before Joel could ask him what was wrong, Ray was already to his feet and headed toward the door.

“Sorry Joel, I have to bail! Good talk though! I’ll drop by again, promise.” He yelled back on the way out, adding a wink in his direction for good measure as he charged onto his front walkway. Joel heard tires screeching as a car practically appeared out of thin air. The angry looking one was screaming for Ray to run faster while the wispy-headed one tossed him a rifle.

They sped off, leaving behind tire marks painted on the pavement and a very confused Joel. His chest was tight and he almost thought he was having a heart attack. Joel had no idea what was going on, but he was worried that something bad was going to happen to Ray.

\--

Joel couldn't think straight; three days had passed since he had last heard or seen his little troublemaker. Scenario after scenario went through his head,  envisioning all the crazy ways that Ray could have gotten himself killed. He could be anywhere from drowning in a pool of his own blood to drowning at the bottom of the Pacific ocean by now. The mental pictures were gruesome and had Joel fidgeting like crazy, struggling to sit still even for a second in his office chair. He had to talk to Adam. Adam could calm him down. He speed-walked to his coworker's cubicle faster than ever before, carefully avoiding his boss' office and any "easy" extra work he had for him.

After he made it to his friend and recounted his inner musings and constant freakouts, Adam could only sigh, rolling his eyes and pushing himself away from his keyboard.

“Joel. Either go back to your desk, or go home. I can’t get my own shit done with you sputtering about like a worried mother.” Adam looked apologetic, but remained firm even when Joel started to pout.

“But… but Adam!” Joel whined, putting his hands on Adam’s shoulder and shaking him as much as he could. Which wasn't much, but it was the gesture that counted. “Adaaaaam. I can’t get my own shit done here and I’d lose my mind if I went home.”

Adam made an exasperated noise, relaxing his shoulders even underneath Joel's grip. “You’ve already lost your mind. Look, I know your heart aches, but that Crew is borderline immortal. They’ve crashed planes in your goddamn yard and you think that he’s probably human swiss cheese in a dark alley? C’mon man, have more faith in your boyfriend.”

Joel scowled at him, taking his hands off of Adam’s shoulders. “You’ve managed to be both right and wrong in the same sentence.”

“Nah. I’m right all around.” Adam smirked and stood, ushering Joel out of his workspace and pushing him back towards his boss' office. “Now say you don’t feel well and go home. Drink coffee. Play video games. Relax. Ray’ll show up soon.”

Joel grumbled in protest. "I don’t want to.”

Adam shushed him and gave him that firm and apologetic look again. “Go.”

Joel pouted one last time before turning and going to talk to his boss.

 

And in only an hour, Joel was sitting in his pretty house with some hot coffee in his pristine -and new- mug. He watched the stocks for hours and pushed the worry from his head, letting a dull buzz take over. Occasionally, he’d glance over to the end table near his television and look at the bright yellow hardhat Ray had given him. The object was meant for safety, and it reminded Joel that Ray had to be fine. Probably a little busy, but alive and well.

Joel sighed and tilted his head back, thinking about how his attitude has changed since the first time he met Ray. As many times as he revisited this point in his head, he never regretted any of it.

The moment was peaceful, not a sound outside besides the occasional car driving by.

Joel was lonely.

Some holy being above must have heard him, because as soon as he closed his eyes to take a nap he was woken by screeching tires and a spray of gunshots. The normal reaction to those noises was to drop to the floor and hope to god the cars didn’t scream into the side of your house and that no stray bullet found its way into your skull. But Joel’s reaction was to stand in front of the window and start watching the carnage go down.

Maybe a bit of Ray’s recklessness wore off on him.

Maybe he was just hoping to see Ray.

The car that screamed by lacked the Fake AH Crew logo, and the people inside were complete strangers to Joel, he disappointment flooding his veins as he kept watching.

The cars drove away, taking the screeching, violent noises and one dead man with a bullet in his head hanging out the window with them.

Then there was silence.

It was almost peaceful like before, like the car wasn’t a preview of more insanity to come. Until another set of sirens broke through the air. The blaring noise ripped across the sky and it sounded like hundreds of cops were tearing down the asphalt. Joel winced and gripped his mug, eager to see what kind of disaster would cause such a cacophony. Joining the sirens came the repetitious thud of helicopter blades slicing apart the air. The sound made Joel’s body charge with excitement.

The police cars came as promised, zooming across the road in front of his house; not in hot pursuit, but in escape as explosions littered the road behind them. The helicopters were the ones hunting down the cops like a sick game of tag. Except if you got tagged, you’d be launched a few hundred feet in the air. Shrapnel of a nailed cruiser splattered his neighbor’s house and Joel all but cheered. When the fuck did he become anti-cop?

It wasn’t long before the cops had artillery for themselves and began shooting back with their own rockets. Joel pushed his face against his window to better see the airborne targets. Just as he glanced up, one of the helicopters was hit with a huge explosion of fire and a loud bang. The terror in the sky screamed down from the air in a ball of smoke and flame, bits of the metal raining upon Joel’s roof.

But that wasn’t the only thing.

The burning bird was dropping out of the sky like a stone and it’s new target was Joel’s house.

Joel felt his blood run cold. There was nowhere he could run, not in the mere seconds it would take for the helicopter to crash. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion as he realized his fate. It was one of those moments you see in movies, where a character was given time to think about their life and reflect on everything right before they die. Usually they manage to come up with some clever escape, or say something really cryptic to the viewer before their fate is sealed. But for Joel, whose vision only held the huge mass of metal suspended in air, it felt like his own brain was just as slow as time was around him. He took a few unsure steps back, trying to do anything despite knowing how useless it would be.

He tore his eyes away from his impending doom to the chopper that was still safe in the air. The hatch was open and he could make out the shape of a person standing in it. He saw a shade of purple.

That lovely shade of purple that couldn’t be mistaken anywhere else.

Ray.

Joel took a shaky breath and everything went back to normal speed. Not a second later was the house shaking and quaking as the support beams above him snapped under the sheer power of the falling wreckage. It was like a meteor was ripping through his house, setting everything ablaze and smashing it to bits. His home, his wonderful home that he lived in for years, the memories he made, the hours spent all smashed in a second. The force of the impact sent him to the floor, the back of his head slamming against it. His ears were ringing, vision spotty and body feeling unbearably hot yet numb at the same time. He was pretty sure there was something embedded in his leg, but he couldn’t move his head to examine it. The pain wasn’t too bad, everything just felt heavy. He tried to move his arm, to move _anything_ , but his body refused to cooperate. When his vision cleared enough to see above him, he saw the shattered remains of the helicopter balanced across the ceiling beams. One piece was dangling from the rest, dripping gasoline and threatening to impale him in a moment.

He should have died already, whether from the fire or the giant helicopter right above his body. Joel laughed, soot pouring into his lunges and setting his throat aflame. The damned thing was making fun of him, so he might as well laugh right back at it even if it hurt like hell. He tried to heave air though his lungs, still laughing between pained coughs. Now it wasn’t irony that pushed his laughter out of his throat, but rather cries of desperation. He could see the ash and smoke billowing from his lungs as his chuckles turned sharp, coughing even harder.

With one last look above him he smiled, challenging the metal to fall and spear him through the chest. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut and he waited for death to be bestowed upon him. Now more screaming bullets, no more Christmas Trees made out of cars, no more planes in his backyard, only some damn peace and quiet.

No more goofball in purple, wide grin smiling at him as he looks out at his street, as he answers his door, as they crack jokes about their lives at each other.

“Fuck.” Joel groaned for what felt like one last time.

Then there was a muffled noise. It felt far away, like he was finally falling asleep and getting this over with. But then the noise cried out over the roaring flames, a sound all too familiar to the fading man.

“Joel!” The voice was clearer now. “Joel! Are you still in here!?”

In his mind, Joel screamed and begged for Ray to run away. Even if the boy seemed invincible, there was no way he’d survive the blazing fire, everything crashing down around them. Even now it felt like Joel’s flesh was peeling away and an immense pressure was seated on his heart.

“There you are.” A shadow appeared above Joel, the light from the fire dimming behind his closed eyes. “I bought you that hard hat for a reason. Use it, dammit.”

The words, while teasing, felt like a blanket on Joel’s mind, telling him to hush and rest for awhile.

So he did, letting the darkness fall over him and send him to sleep.

\---

Joel’s mind felt like it was being stitched together as he woke up. His eyes fluttered open and he was lying down, warmth softer than a mother’s hug surrounding him. As his mind cleared, he realized he was in a bed. _‘A hospital?’_ There was no light around him, but the feeling of the bed alone alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t in his own room. Memories of scorching fire and the helicopter flooded his mind, and he remembered that his home had been burned to the ground. He looked around slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He saw what looked like a nightstand, fumbling around and finding a lamp perched on top of it. It was the kind that turned on just from touch and illuminated the room.

Wherever he was, it was definitely not a hospital. The lack of pristine white walls and beeping machines was the first indicator. And then he realized that his body didn’t ache or scream in agony as someone that had nearly died in a fire should expect. Looking over his body, there were no scars, burns or bandages to speak of. As a matter of fact, his skin seemed to glow in the lamplight, as if a god himself had graced Joel with new skin.

Was this heaven? Oh shit, had he died?

Then again, would heaven have.. pale pink roses and plastic glow-in-the-dark stars all over the ceiling?

Joel sat up, vision going in and out as his body adjusted to the new position. At least his blood pressure hadn't changed. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the cozy look of the room with what lamplight he had. The walls were a soft peach, covered mostly by video games posters and magazine clippings. They looked old, colors fading and corners fraying. The dresser and desk were stained a dark brown, patches of pale plywood showing through. The gloss of the wood bounced the lamplight off the trophies and trinkets on top of the objects, making Joel even more curious as to what they were.

Directly across from the bed, which was covered in a dark blue comforter and too damn comfortable for its own good, were framed guns. Sniper rifles, machine guns, pistols, rocket launchers. They looked worse for wear, scratches and torn metal protruding from them.

So, definitely not heaven. But something about it felt familiar. Looking back to the nightstand, he saw a yellow hard hat sitting patiently for him with a note stuck to it.

> If I’m not in the room when you wake up, go to the main room. I’ll probably be there.
> 
> \- Ray

That’s when it clicked; Everything about the room screamed Ray. The roses and video game posters should have been a dead giveaway. But that was only one question answered out of how many were left, the first one was why he was in Ray’s room in the first place. The second was why he wasn’t dead.

Scooting out of the bed, Joel found that he was nude except for his underwear. He sighed before moving about the room, looking for something that would fit him. He managed to find a pair of grey sweatpants, but when he reached for them, a flash of green caught his eye. It was on the back of his left hand. Standing with the pants in the other hand, he gazed at the strange mark on his hand. It was the mark of the Fake AH Crew and it was very much tattooed permanently into his skin.

“Really? They tattooed an unconscious guy? Branded me like I’m their property?”

Joel raked a hand through his hair. Then again, they did save his life and he probably now owed it to them. He flexed his hand a few times, getting a feel for the ink on his skin before putting on the sweats. His limbs felt more fit, more muscular than before. And for a moment, when he bent down, he could have sworn he saw a hint of abs showing.

Finally moving out of Ray’s room, he got a peek at the rest of the Fake AH Crew complex. Something in the shiny stainless-steel walls and eerie lighting gave the complex a larger than life kind of feel. His footsteps echoed off the walls, seeming colder with each movement forward. Until he made it to the main room. The windows reached for the ceilings, bathing the entire room in a golden light. The wood floor practically fucking glowed from the setting sun coming through the glass.

It was beautiful, and Joel let out a gasp at the sight. When he finally took in the rest of the room, large white couches taking up the rest of the floor space before branching off into a separate kitchen area, his eyes met the sharp brown he had become so familiar with.

“About time you woke up, Sleeping Gorgeous. Or Sleeping Jackass… or maybe Sleeping old-- That’s dumb. Anyway, congrats on waking up.” Ray snarked, while bouncing up from from his spot on the center couch. A few quick bunny-hops and he was right in front of Joel, who was looking at the younger man with obvious confusion.

Joel blinked at him a few times. “How long was I out? Wait, more importantly, how am I not dead?”

Geoff, looking as neat as ever in his signature black suit, appeared from around the kitchen corner. He was flanked by the rest of the crew, including a few other people he had never seen before. A woman with blazing red hair, and a stout blonde boy were two of the more notable ones. Seeing them up close in a way he hadn’t before, he noticed bits of green showing on various parts of skin. They were all emblems, like the one on Joel’s hand. Geoff’s was on his right hand, among a myriad of other tattoos poking from under his sleeves. A man in a leather jacket had one on his knee, showing through a rip in his jeans. The woman had hers peeking out of neck of her shirt.

Ray pulled up the sleeve on his hoodie and showed his on his left inner forearm. “You’re not dead because you’re one of us now. A member of the Fake AH Crew can not and will not die.”

“I… can’t die?” Joel stuttered over the words. He knew what not dying meant, but there was no way that could be true. Sure, he didn’t die in that crash-fire combo and his body seemed to be in perfect condition after, but not able to die? That was unbelievable.

“Bullshit,” he said firmly.

Geoff sighed heavily, adjusting his weight from foot to foot. “Must we go over this every time?” There wasn’t real irritation to his voice, just a sense of tiredness. Geoff’s tattooed hand ducked under his suit jacket, and pulling out a pistol and shooting the blond right between his eyes. The shot rattled in Joel’s ears and the kid’s body slammed into the floor, painting the other crew members and walls behind him in blood splatter.

Joel screamed, expletives flying from his mouth and legs moving him across the room as the boy twitched on the ground before going completely still.

He lay still a few moments longer, until he let out a loud gasp for air. The blond groaned and slowly stood, shoes squelching in his own pool of blood.

“And exactly why am I always the guinea pig, Geoff?”

“It’s all a part of the initiation process, Kerry.”

Joel’s gaped at the scene, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Maybe it was a trick gun and there were blood packets placed in the right spots. But when the blond turned to look at him, Joel saw the bullet hole slowly closing up. Iny a few seconds, there was no trace of a wound to be found.

Geoff smiled and spun the pistol around his finger. “If you aren’t convinced, I can throw someone out the window. We’re on the 32nd floor. They’d be sidewalk pudding, but they’d come back in the amount of time the elevator takes.”

“Geoff, can I go get cleaned off? I kinda liked this shirt.” A scrawny man with a large nose and messy brown hair was trying - and failing - to wipe some of the blood from his t-shirt. Geoff shrugged, watching the lad left before looking back towards Joel.

“Uh… No. No, I’m good”. Joel shivered at the idea of bones crunching into a gooey pile on the ground, the visual too clear in his mind. “But... why me?”

The young man in the leather jacket wandered over and gave Ray a tough pat on the shoulder. “This dude. He’s been trying to get you to be a part of the Crew for awhile now. It just so happened that you were gonna die without us. Lucky you.”

Joel nodded dumbly. He was about to ask another question when Ray spoke up. “Other questions you might have, I’ll answer for you. Just know all you have to do is relax and we’ll take care of you.” He added the last part with a devilish wink. With a hand on Joel’s back, Ray led him back to his room to get him proper clothes and took him out for a nice, warm meal.

It was definitely _not_ a date.

Wait. Shit.

\----

In a way, Joel wasn’t exactly wrong about owing the crew his life. He visited the charred remains of his house, finding a few family photographs and a scrap of a shopping list. Joel had already pulled up the real estate website when Ray came behind him, kicking a loose piece of wood across the ground. He looked at the screen before taking it from the older man’s hands, proclaiming that he was obviously going to live with them and that he didn’t need to look for “another huge house for one crusty old man”.

Joel refused to go on any missions, still going into his boring desk job three days of the week. Adam nearly sobbed when he showed up to work on Monday, crushing the older man in one of his infamous bear hugs. He quickly became friends with the rest of the crew, even coming over to their apartment complex for video games and drinking nights. The first time Joel came in with Adam behind him, half the crew had their guns out and aimed at the larger man. Then Geoff found out Adam could hold his liquor and he had been invited back ever since.

Their insane robberies and hijinks didn’t let up either, some of their more notable failures managed to send Joel into a frenzy. Despite the crew’s literal immortality, broken arms and bullet holes still hurt like hell. He learned how to suture wounds and put in stitches, and with lessons from Caleb, the crew’s underground surgeon, was well on his way to learning how to take out the pesky bullets that didn’t kill. It helped him deal with the huge explosions and jets crashing right outside the main room windows.

Joel was currently standing in front of those windows, watching the clouds above and the traffic below. It was peaceful and serene, almost like that day so many months ago. But instead of a scorching helicopter, Joel saw a speck of purple coming towards him. It weaved between the clouds and soon the black and yellow parachute joined the sight of the signature purple hoodie. Ray’s smiling face was clear for only a few seconds until his entire body slammed into the window. Joel wheezed from laughter, moving forward until his own face was inches from the glass.

"You dipshit." He kissed the glass and watched his boyfriend fall thirty two stories and hit the pavement. The dork waved as he fell.

Joel kissed him for real when Ray walks into the apartment with the giant parachute in his hands and sheepish smile on his face. Immortality came with its perks.


End file.
